


dreams of tomorrow

by afrocurl, ninemoons42



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles Is a Darling, Erik is a darling, Gay Mutant Road Trip, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 09:58:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afrocurl/pseuds/afrocurl, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninemoons42/pseuds/ninemoons42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles and Erik go out recruiting and run into a boy who has more than just the gift of mutation to offer them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dreams of tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the kidfic square on our joint trope-bingo card.

Cities, Erik thinks, are places where trouble is always waiting to happen. He never feels safe even when he’s surrounded by metal, if the metal belongs to the nooks and crannies of a city: he can certainly use all this metal for offense and defense, but cities also mean people, mean humans, too many opportunities for hatred and stupidity, and very few ways out except straight up.

He’s not yet entirely sure he can levitate himself, much less Charles, to get out of everyone’s way.

So he’s deeply suspicious as he always is when a new skyline looms on the horizon, and he wraps his awareness around the coin in his pocket. It’s no real weapon for this particular purpose - it’s been set aside for something else - but he will have to use it if he must, if they get into trouble, and cities are endless wellsprings for that and worse.

Charles’s directions lead them toward a house with a tiny garden out front.

At first Erik only catalogues the metal and can’t see the boy - but there is a set of rivets in the faded green of the lawn that most certainly didn’t grow there.

-

Mamma wears her brightest smile as she lets the two men into the house. Mamma is always, always polite, even to the strangers who drive up with curious expressions on their faces. He holds her hand tightly as she walks into the house and asks the men to follow.

He sits, dutiful, next to Mamma and listens as the two men talk about what a special gift he has.

Gift? He’s never thought of what he can do as a gift - but the smaller man, the man with the wide blue eyes - says that some _very_ special people have gifts.

As if to prove that point, the smaller man whispers into his mind: _You are not alone_.

The other man looks around the room before he floats a handful of spare change lazily into the air.

Wiggling in delight, he claps happily. He’s never seen any other tricks like that, and his own gift doesn’t seem as special as those two.

All he can do is turn the radio on and off without touching it. That’s nothing compared to floating coins or speaking into a person’s head.

Mamma looks at him, and he tries to calm down, but fails. He slips off the couch with Mamma and walks to the other men.

_Hello, my name is Charles. My friend is Erik,_ Charles says. _You’re welcome to sit between us, if you’d like. We’d like to get to know you._

-

Erik watches the boy gravitate to Charles, one bright warm presence leaning toward another, and thinks that this must be for the best.

He’s a little more adept at shielding his thoughts, now, and he thinks he might be able to hide scenes limned in ash and smoke from everyone in the room: this is a different place, relatively unsullied as such things go, if the woman’s doting on her son is to be believed. Here is a place where the boy might actually escape dark dreams, so here is not a place for Erik to think about defending children smaller than he himself was, in vain.

When the boy reaches out to the floating coins in wonder Erik reaches for that hand, carefully turns it palm-up, and starts whirling all of the coins around his outstretched fingers, passing the bright disks from himself to the boy, light sparking onto the walls.

The boy’s smile is startling and unexpectedly luminous, and it leads Erik on: he melts the whole lot down. “You can touch it, it’s not hot, it’s not going to hurt you,” he says, quiet and awkward. “I won’t let it hurt you.

“Do you have a favorite shape?” He’s met with furrowed eyebrows. He doesn’t know how to talk to people, let alone children. “Do you like dogs, cats, cars, something?”

The metal that used to be an assortment of pennies and nickels and dimes flows from object to object: a house, a baseball, a bowler hat.

-

A nearly perfect model of a Corvette convertible rests in his hands: small, and perfect. He smiles at Erik, and looks back at the car before he rolls it against his thigh.

Mamma gasps, but he pays her no mind, focusing on the car and the gifts that Charles and Erik have.

_Would you like to join us? Learn more about what you can do?_ Charles asks softly.

He nods enthusiastically, but then looks at his Mamma’s eyes, welling with tears.

“I want to, but I can’t leave her,” he says finally.

Charles hums while Erik bobs his head in agreement.

“I’ll leave my card, and if you change your mind later, you’re welcome to join us,” Charles says.

He holds onto the car as Charles and Erik slowly leave, wondering just how long he will wait until he asks Mamma for that card.


End file.
